


Like An Ocean

by i_eat_men_like_air



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Competency Kink, Established Relationship, Jopson is Good at His Job(son), Look At You Strawberry Blonde..., M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Service Top, Smut, There He is: Service Topson, What If We Were Stuck In The Arctic With No Hope Of Rescue, and we were both boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_eat_men_like_air/pseuds/i_eat_men_like_air
Summary: ‘Captain?’He spoke quietly, concerned that too loud a tone might shatter the moment.‘You’re too good to me Jopson,’ his Captain muttered, ‘far too good to me.’‘You need someone to take care of you, Captain, and aboard this ship, in this place, that role falls to me. No need to worry, sir.’Jopson began to pick up the Captain’s jumper when he felt a hand on his arm.‘Sir?’The Captain was looking at him with marked, nervous interest now, and the hand on his arm was warm and gentle. Ah.‘You need me to take care of you, sir?’
Relationships: Francis Crozier/Thomas Jopson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Like An Ocean

Thomas Jopson rarely allowed himself a moment to breathe. Living aboard Terror was no easy task at the best of times, but with Captain Crozier’s recent determination to do better by himself and the men things had become even more fraught. The worst of it was passed, mercifully, but his master was not out of the woods yet. He had spent most of his waking hours caring for the Captain, but even now, leaning exhausted against the bulkhead, he felt no animosity towards the man. If anything, seeing the Captain in such a state had simply added to the depths of his long-standing affection. He knew it was no easy thing to make that choice, even under more comfortable circumstances, but to decide to go off the drink when both ships were at such a dangerous precipice? Well, Jopson felt a surge of pride at his master’s fortitude at that. He had done the right thing at such a high cost to himself, and now he was emerging from the other side. 

The bell rang from down the hallway and he sighed; the small moment of peace was shattered, and his master needed him. Jopson didn’t mind, not really, and he drew his shoulders back in preparation. He straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair down as he walked smartly towards the Captain’s cabin. A couple of the crew tipped their forelocks to him as he walked past; he had been all but invisible to them prior to the Captain’s ‘illness’, but now they knew him well as the one who would hold the Captain together, no matter the cost. He took pride in this, too, having taken Mr. Blanky’s comment that he was a ‘regular mongoose’ with a small smile. He had spent many years perfecting his service of the Captain, and he was not about to let anyone go near the man. At a time like this, he could only imagine how fiercely the Captain needed his space and privacy, and he was prepared to do anything to protect that; up to and including facing off with Fitzjames, which had happened more than once over the past couple of weeks.

He gently opened the door of the cabin, now knowing that knocking was unnecessary given the circumstances. Captain Crozier was sitting up on his bed, something that took Jopson aback at first; the Captain was rarely able to sit up without some assistance these days.

‘Ah, Jopson!’

The Captain’s tone was almost jovial, a detail that caused Jopson’s eyebrows to rise in a manner imperceptible to all but his present company. 

‘Captain, you’re looking well, sir.’

He covered the space quickly, standing to attention at the Captain’s side, ready to receive his orders.

‘ What can I do for you?’

‘Well, I’d like to get dressed, if it’s all the same to you, Jopson.’

His master grinned, showing Jopson the little gap between his front teeth that he so often expressed dislike for.

‘I feel better than I have for an age and I think I ought to look the part as well.’

Jopson could have fallen to his knees and kissed the man’s feet at that. He smiled back at the Captain, barely restraining the fondness he felt for the older man. It had been so long since he’d seen that little gap that, if asked, he would have quite happily pressed a kiss to it.

‘Well then, let’s get you dressed, Captain.’

It was muscle memory at this point, gathering all the Captain’s clothes. He didn’t want to overdo it so, despite his initial urge to simply grab his master’s uniform, he opted simply for his slops. An undershirt, woollen jumper, long johns, trousers, socks and boots would be enough for now; no need to go mad. 

When he returned to the Captain’s side he smiled again, seeing that the man was already wrestling with his nightshirt.

‘Let me handle that, sir,’ he said, softly, manoeuvring the Captain out of his shirt with practised ease.

As he deposited the shirt in the wash basket he allowed himself a second to appraise his master’s form. Captain Crozier had lost weight, yes, but he was still a fine figure of a man; heavily built and well-muscled from years at sea, with a slight paunch around his waist that Jopson found most endearing. He longed to press his face into the soft skin of his Captain’s torso, to rake his neatly trimmed nails over the other man’s chest and hear his breath catch. But that was not for now. Now, he needed to get his Captain dressed.

‘I’m freezing my arse off here, lad, get on with it.’

The Captain grinned as he spoke. There was no malice behind his words; none of his words to Jopson ever held ill-intent, as a matter of fact, but Jopson hurried over to him all the same and began to pull the undershirt over his head. The intimacy of his role never passed Jopson by; he saw his Captain at his best and his very worst, and in every state of dress, but today, pulling the tight-fitting shirt down his Captain’s torso, he felt a shift in the air. What caused it, he couldn’t say, but when he finished settling the shirt in its place he looked at his Captain’s face and caught his breath. It had been a long time since Jopson had entertained the thought of any kind of intimacy aboard Terror, but the Captain was looking at him in a way that he could only describe as ‘interested’. Jopson felt his curiosity pique.

‘Captain?’

He spoke quietly, concerned that too loud a tone might shatter the moment. 

‘You’re too good to me Jopson,’ his Captain muttered, ‘far too good to me.’

‘You need someone to take care of you, Captain, and aboard this ship, in this place, that role falls to me. No need to worry, sir.’

Jopson began to pick up the Captain’s jumper when he felt a hand on his arm.

‘Sir?’

The Captain was looking at him with marked, nervous interest now, and the hand on his arm was warm and gentle.  _ Ah _ .

‘You need me to take care of you, sir?’

Wordlessly, the Captain nodded, his near feverish blue eyes and shaking hands betraying his nerves. Jopson smiled. It had been a long time since they had done this. The first time it had happened, the Captain had been almost delirious with exhaustion, barely knowing which way was up, and he had apologised profusely for taking advantage of his authority over Jopson the next day. Jopson, however, had neither needed nor wanted an apology. What he had wanted was another go. Another chance to show his Captain just how good he could be in any area he was needed. He was confident in all his abilities, was Jopson, and he had so wanted to show a more level-headed Captain Crozier exactly what he could do. 

Over the years their arrangement had developed comfortably. Jopson never asked for anything, instead, he would wait for the Captain to make a request, and he would fulfil that request with gusto. It was, after all, his job to care for the Captain, and he loved his job dearly.

‘I can take care of you then, sir.’

Jopson cradled his Captain’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to the man’s furrowed brow before moving to the cabin’s main door to lock it. He had no interest in being interrupted whilst performing his duties.

‘Let’s get that shirt off of you, Captain, and those pyjama bottoms too.’

He moved quickly and efficiently, the picture of a professional steward, before folding the undershirt and placing the trousers in the wash basket to be cleaned later.

‘Tell me what you want, sir.’

The Captain exhaled slowly, moving to cover his nakedness before Jopson gently grabbed a hold of his wrists.

‘Ah-ah, sir, no hiding now. I’ll see you as you are, if you don’t mind.’

At that, his master let his hands fall to his sides, and Jopson ran his eyes over the entirety of the man’s body. The heft around his middle had lessened as the result of his convalescence, but it was still comfortably pronounced. His arms and chest were strong, pale, and freckled despite the lack of sunlight they had seen. Jopson adored the freckles that covered his master, he adored their lovely irregularity and the knowledge that there were some that only he got to see. The smattering of freckles on his thighs, for example. Jopson let his eyes wonder southwards, admiring his Captain’s prick with an appraising gaze. It was thick, a beautiful shade of pink, nestled in a thatch of strawberry blonde hair, and it was thickening rapidly as Jopson stared with knowing, pale blue eyes.

‘Look at you, getting yourself worked up for me like that, sir. I’ve barely laid a finger on you.’

His Captain blushed at this, his face turning a ruddy, lovely shade of red. Jopson smiled down at him as he moved a little closer, letting his eyes wander freely. It was so easy to get his Captain worked up, a glance here, a whisper of a touch there, and he would be panting for it. What  _ it _ was, however, had not yet been decided. That was the Captain’s task in these scenarios, figuring out exactly what he needed Jopson to do to him. Or, conversely, what he needed to do to Jopson. 

‘You must tell me what you need, sir, else I can’t do my job properly.’

He heard the delicate  _ click _ of the Captain’s throat as the man swallowed, and Jopson raised his eyebrows in a show of calm, collected curiosity as their eyes met.

‘Sir?’

Jopson knelt in front of his master, gently moving his knees apart so he could see every minute reaction in the older man’s face and prick. He brushed his hair from his face, smoothing it down in its familiar part, before resting his hands on the Captain’s thighs. They were warm, almost quivering, and Jopson tilted his head to watch the man above him.

‘You’ll be the death of me, lad,’ the Captain breathed, wild eyes fixed on Jopson’s lips.

‘I should hope not, Captain,’ Jopson ran his hands up his master’s thighs until they settled in that lovely, warm crease where they met his belly, ‘I wouldn’t be much of a steward if I let that happen.’

His captain huffed out a low laugh at this, and brought his hands to Jopson’s face, resting there before pulling him forwards into a slow, comfortable kiss. Jopson sighed into his mouth, wrapping his arms around his Captain’s neck and shuffling closer so his stomach was rubbing against the man’s cockstand. He hummed in disapproval as the Captain tried to thrust up against him, pulling him closer so as to restrict any kind of movement on the other man’s part. Jopson opened his mouth slowly, moaning softly as his Captain’s tongue ran over his own. He tasted like the wintergreen of his tooth powder, and Jopson smiled into the kiss, it seemed that the Captain had planned this. Against his stomach, he felt his master’s small, aborted thrusts, and he  _ tsked _ softly into the kiss before pulling away.

‘None of that sir, you’ve still not given me your orders.’

His Captain huffed in (only partially) feigned annoyance, his face still ruddy and glowing.

‘Fucking hell, lad. I want,’ he paused, and Jopson tilted his head in a show of confusion, ‘I want you to take me, Tom, just take me.’

The older man stared into his lap, his ears burning the same red as his face. Jopson tilted his master’s head up so their eyes were meeting again, and kissed him gently at the corner of his mouth.

‘Of course, sir, whatever you need.’

With that, Jopson stood, and made quick work of removing his own layers of clothing, folding them on a chair so as not to wrinkle them, until he stood before his Captain as naked as the day he was born. He made a note of how appreciatively his master raked his eyes over his body. Jopson had no illusions about his appearance, he knew he was a decent figure of a man, slender, with pale olive skin, and a dusting of dark hair that trailed from his chest to his groin. He felt his prick harden at his Captain’s appraisal, enjoying the attention, before moving to kiss the man again.

He rested his hand at the base of his master’s throat, holding it there firmly, but not with any intent of cutting the airflow, and plundered his mouth with his tongue. Jopson heard his Captain moan beneath him, but he held him still by his throat, discouraging any movement beyond their mouths with the gentle application of pressure. He bit down as hard as he dared on his master’s lower lip, enjoying the feeling of the flesh swelling under his ministrations as he suckled gently. He felt his Captain’s breath wash over his face, panting heavily as Jopson resumed his previous kneeling position, and pulled back slowly so as not to miss any of the man’s delightful little reactions. 

His Captain moaned at the loss, reaching to bury his hands in Jopson’s hair and pull them back together before Jopson stopped him.

‘Lay back, sir, I’ll take care of you.’

Jopson watched approvingly as his master shuffled back across the bed, until he was lying supine with his head on the pillow. 

‘Hands under the pillow sir, don’t want you misbehaving now.’

His Captain dutifully buried his hands under the pillow, the blush from his face rolling down to cover his chest and stomach. Jopson hummed happily, enjoying the look of his master as he reached beneath the mattress to grab the pot of slick he kept there for occasions such as this. He set it to the side of the pillow, well within sight and reach of his Captain, and climbed gracefully onto the bed as well, positioning himself once again between his master’s legs. Jopson bent his head carefully so that he was eye level with his Captain’s prick, and let out a long, slow breath, enjoying how his master bucked at the tiny amount of pressure it provided. He looked up through his eyelashes, and allowed himself a self-satisfied smile before lowering his mouth to lap at his master’s cockstand.

His Captain grunted at the contact, and the muscles in his thighs and stomach strained as he fought to keep still.  _ Good _ , Jopson thought,  _ he’s behaving _ . Assured that his master was trying his best to remain motionless, Jopson lowered his head in earnest, and began suckling at the tip of his Captain’s cock. The salt of the man’s pre-ejaculate coated his tongue, and Jopson moaned softly at the obvious arousal his master felt at his attentions. He stayed there for a moment, lazily letting his Captain’s cockhead slide in and out of his mouth, enjoying the taste and weight of it on his tongue, before he heard the man’s voice crack above him.  _ Tom _ , came the moan, and Jopson acquiesced, swallowing further and further down his Captain’s length until his nose was buried in those lovely strawberry blonde curls. He inhaled, silently appreciating the slightly sour, musky smell of his master, before pulling back up and servicing his Captain with enthusiasm.

This act, particularly, he enjoyed. The weight of his master’s prick on his tongue, the overwhelming scent and flavour, it all allowed his mind to go blissfully blank for as long as it lasted. With his mouth upon his master in this way, little else mattered. Laving his tongue up and down his master’s length, Jopson let the blankness overtake him. There was nothing else besides the velveteen flesh in his mouth and the blissful bursts of salt that he drew out with his tongue. He pursed his lips underneath his master’s cockhead and sucked at the sensitive skin there, sighing happily as the older man groaned like a wounded animal. Jopson listened carefully to his Captain’s breathing; by now he knew when to cease these ministrations and move on to what he had been ordered to do, and when the older man’s breath hitched as if with a sob, Jopson pulled off with an obscenely loud  _ pop _ . He ran his fingers over his lips, gathering the essence of his master before moving his hand to play gently with the man’s stones. They were drawn tight up against his body, and Jopson smiled at the evidence of a job well done.

‘ _ Tom _ ,’ there was that demanding tone again, followed by a barely muffled groan as Jopson gave his stones a quick, but not unkind, pull.

Jopson  _ tutted _ quietly, chuckling as his Captain swore at him under his breath.

‘Easy, sir, I’ve got you.’

He grabbed the tin of slick that had been resting by his Captain’s head, and shuffled a little further down the bed. He gave his master’s cockstand a quick kiss, slipping his tongue out to lap at the head, before moving to nuzzle at his stones. Rolling them gently between his fingers, Jopson deftly unscrewed the lid of the tin and coated his fingers in the slippery substance. 

He heard his Captain gasp as he let his tongue wander southwards, teasing softly at the ring of muscle he was presented with, letting his tongue catch at the flesh there. His master made a half-hearted attempt to thrust himself against Jopson’s tongue, but Jopson clamped his hands firmly onto the backs of the man’s thighs, holding them down as he worked. He lapped and sucked softly at the opening, carefully working his master to distraction. This he loved, too, using his mouth to open his Captain up for his fingers, making a mess of the man in such a simple way. By this time, he was satisfied that the slick on his fingers was warm enough to proceed, and he pressed his index finger forward to toy with the rim of his master’s opening. His Captain sucked in a breath raggedly, and Jopson pushed his finger further in, relishing in the way his master’s body swallowed him up so perfectly. He crooked his finger carefully, searching for that lovely little bundle and grinning into his master’s thigh as he felt the man clench around him with a groan. 

‘You’re doing wonderfully, sir,’ he whispered, pressing another finger into his master with a sigh.

‘Taking my fingers so beautifully like this, letting me work you open, Captain.’

His master choked out a sob above him, a noise that made Jopson’s prick twitch where it lay neglected between his legs; he made such endearing noises.

Jopson continued to work his fingers in and out of his Captain, revelling in the noises he wrung out of the man as he twisted and crooked his fingers to rub over that swollen, wonderful place inside him. He was sure his face was a sight now, blushing and stern with concentration, and it took all of his willpower to cease the movement of his fingers. Watching them disappear time and time again inside his Captain was intoxicating, but he could see that his work was having an increasingly pronounced effect on the man. His cockstand was all but throbbing in front of his face, and Jopson made a small, pleased sound at the state of his master beneath him.

He slicked up his prick quickly, shuddering at the long-awaited friction, and stilled to look his Captain in the eye. The man was shaking, muscles straining under soft, pink skin, and Jopson tilted his head in faux curiosity.

‘Can I get you something, sir?’

His Captain made a noise that may very well have been a curse or a request, but Jopson would not allow such a sloppy show from the man. 

‘Begging your pardon, Captain?’

‘Christ, Tom, I’m the one begging here, will you get on with it,’ his master’s words came out in one great breath, and Jopson chuckled, his pale eyes glinting.

‘Get on with what, sir? You’ll need to be more specific than that.’

His Captain growled at this, his blue eyes almost black with lust and frustration.

‘Jesus, Tom…’ the man beneath him threw his head back, and Jopson quietly admired the cords of muscle that ran down his neck, wanting more than anything to sink his teeth into them. But for now, there were more important things to be doing, such as…

‘Fuck me, Tom, Jesus just  _ fuck _ me will you, and stop your teasing.’

Jopson bared his teeth in a grin, feeling very much like the mongoose who had pinned the snake beneath him.

‘Very good sir.’

He knew neither of them needed any more preamble, and with a low, dark groan he pushed his cockstand into his Captain. The heat was addictive; velvet-soft warmth engulfing him like an ocean and urging him on. He pushed in to the hilt, until he was face to face with his master, and gasped as he felt the man clench around him. Beneath him, his Captain’s eyes shone with what Jopson could only identify as adoration. It made his heart clench, seeing the naked trust in his master’s eyes.

‘Tom,  _ God _ you’re beautiful Tom, such a beautiful boy,’ his master breathed out as Jopson began to thrust into him.

He moaned, barely able to keep his eyes on his Captain as he worked his hips back and forth in long, steady thrusts.

‘For you, sir. All for you.’

His voice was rougher now, losing any pretence at the high class, Oxford accent he worked so hard to affect as his Captain groaned beneath him. 

‘You’re perfect sir, perfect around me like this, lettin’ me take care of you. So fuckin’ tight around my prick, fillin’ you up, wanna look at you like this ‘til I die, Cap’n.’

‘ _ God _ the mouth on you, boy.’

Truly, Jopson wished to stay like this forever, his prick encased in glowing, perfect heat, and the fireworks licking at the base of his spine; his master bucking up towards him, needing him more than he needed any other. His Captain  _ showing  _ him that he was good, showing him how much he was needed, that he was his boy, his in all things. He began to move his hips faster, resting his hands on either side of his Captain’s face as he slammed into him. The slap of his stones against his master’s body was an obscene, wonderful noise, and he let out a gasp far higher than intended as his Captain’s prick rubbed up against his stomach. His master was leaking without pause now, pre-ejaculate slicking the way as he jerked against Jopson, hands still buried under the pillow. Jopson buried his face in his master’s neck, inhaling the muted scent of sweat and cologne with a soft whine.

His Captain was crying out beneath him, babbling words of encouragement and adoration, muffling the sounds with Jopson’s shoulder as he strained upwards. The heat in Jopson’s stomach was growing exponentially, shooting through his body like so many heavenly needles. He moved his hand to reach for his master’s prick, barely having a chance to stroke its full length before he felt the heat around his own prick tighten, vicelike and perfect, and his Captain, his beautiful Captain, shouted his release into the crook of Jopson’s neck. 

Jopson whined softly as his own release overtook him, shooting bright, clear arrows through his body as he felt his seed flood into the man beneath him, milked out of him by the clenching muscles of his master’s body. His whole body was suffused with a blissful, divinely soothing warmth as he let himself fall limp upon his Captain’s chest, dimly aware of the rise and fall of the man’s breathing.

It took him a moment, but Jopson gathered himself as best he could, carefully removing his softening, sensitive prick from his Captain. He leant back on his heels, gazing softly at his master. The blush that had covered the man’s entire body was slowly receding, until only his cheeks were dusted with that lovely petal pink colour. His eyes fluttered open slowly, staring up at Jopson in a daze. The look was so entirely endearing and sweet that Jopson ceased his gentle cleaning of his master and leaned down to press a kiss to his slack, soft mouth.

‘Tom, lad, you’re a marvel,’ his Captain breathed, flexing his hands as he removed them from beneath the pillow and carding them through Jopson’s hair, pulling him into a deeper kiss. 

Jopson breathed out a chuckle into his master’s mouth.

‘You’re the marvel, sir,’ he whispered as he pulled away, not trusting his tongue to keep any kind of coherence beyond that, ‘let’s get you cleaned up.’


End file.
